Darkness
by taylor.runner
Summary: This is a story based loosely (and I mean LOOSELY) off of the Fallout 3 Universe. It follows the story of a young girl who is thrown violently out of her comfortable life in the vault, and what the world has become.
1. Chapter 1: Screams

**Darkness,**

She stared dazed at the ceiling in her dark bunk. She was completely stunned from being knocked violently out of her fitful slumber. There was nothing, she saw nothing, she heard nothing, she felt nothing. She blinked a few times and rubbed her dry eyes. Her brain raced as it tried to make sense of the madness that was engulfing her world, her nightmares mingling seamlessly with real world. As the nightmares began to fade and her breathing slowed, the first thing that hit her, the godawful stench. It reminded her of Mr. Summers, who had been a lively old man, too lively in fact. He "lived" himself into a stress induced heart attack. She was the first to find his already decaying body, in bed with his dog, and the last to see it as they burned his tough flesh.

The stench of death isn't what had woken her. She sat up and felt blindly for the blinds of her window, grasped them with a shaky, fatigued hand, and pulled up the blinds of the large oval window. White light streamed and she peered into the dimly lit hallway of the residential wing of the vault. A small cherry light that emitting a bright, intermitted red flash. It let out a small siren in cadence with the light.

At first she saw no one, then her neighbor from the vault facing hers, a young man, timidly poked his head out of his cabin. Dette rubbed her eyes as she watched him, pondering his next move. She was curious to see if he would follow proper protocol without being told to do so. She knew well enough that the alarm was most likely a false one, they hadn't had any significant amount of radiation leak it's way into the Vault for a few years, but the citizens still had to evacuate the area.

The young man was Kevin, Dette didn't know his last name. The only reason she even knew his first was because she had once knocked on the door, called by worried neighbors reporting domestic violence. When she forced her way in she saw Mr. Kevin Something standing over a bloody Mrs. Something, his even younger wife. But once Mrs. Something was taken down to the bowels of the vault to a makeshift security station and hospital, she recanted. She was seventeen, pregnant, and scared out of her mind. She fabricated that she had fallen while cleaning. Classic.

While Dette felt pity on the poor girl, she it was overpowered by the feeling of disgust. But that was the way it was down here. Babies, barely weaned, married other babies, and procreated. They had to repopulate the earth, since there were only roughly a few million inhabitants now, Dette guessed, those numbers were generous though. So propaganda was spread all around the vault about marriage and baby-making. It was drilled into kids in class that that was their only duty, and one day the children of the Vault would take back the earth. Dette had disagreed with this philosophy, at her mother's displeasure. Although she was offered many of times by dashing young men, she always declined. She preferred solitude, a place and time to think. But even so, when she felt the empty spot of her bed, a small frown crossed her face. Twenty-two years old and still no one to warm that side of the bed. She turned her attention back to the hallway, which was slowly filling up with bewildered vault dwellers.

They scrunched their nose at the stench and muttered nervously amongst each other. Oh, the stench! Dette's heart skipped a beat, she'd smelled it before, not just on the old man. They say that smell is the strongest memory, and Dette could contest to that as the memory of that smell hit her pretty strongly. When Dette was nine years old, the smell of death suddenly took over the upper section of the vault. After a bit of scrambling while the older dwellers grumbling nervously as they eyed their geiger counters, they found the source was a mutated rat that had found it's way into the vaults ventilation system. It had intruded it's way into the vault looking for a safe refuge from the harsh wastes. Unfortunately, it found only death. It filled the vault with not only the stench, but the radiation that came with it.

She lunged across the room for her Geiger counter. The security force all carried them nowadays, it that sat dutifully on the counter in her small almost cell like space. It was more accurate than the ones built into the Pipboy 2000 model she had, so it was her tool of choice. In the dark, she fumbled with the controls, almost dropping it onto the even darker floor. Finally she felt her finger hit the switch and a steady tick followed this. This wasn't unusual, when the world's super powers engage in nuclear warfare there is bound to be radiation everywhere. But in the dim light in the corner of her room wasn't enough to make out the small white numbers that were etched above the dial, she slowly walked towards the light, keeping her eye on the Geiger counter. By now she could hear clearly the sounds of the nervous vault dwellers outside her quarters. They conversed apprehensively as they attempted to determine if the alarms were just a drill so they could get back to their warm beds, or if they should really start to worry.

Dette's eyes grew wide as she reached the window and she could make out the numbers. One-thousand it read, the indicator wavering unsteadily. Those numbers could be lethal if exposed to long enough. She had half a second to ponder this. Then her ears filled with the sounds of a throaty scream from a young woman. That wasn't the last scream she'd hear in the next few hours, not even close.


	2. Chapter 2: Nuclear Family

Dette was born Claudette Yates in 2070 in Kansas, to a happy family living the white picket fence with 2.5 kids and a dog American dream. Her mom, Janette, was a housewife, but of Course she didn't do this housework alone. She had, like most wealthy house wives, A Mr. Handy they had dubbed Scooter. She had a little baby Brother whom she ADORED, named Little Walter, or Wallie. He'd grow to detest the nickname later in life, but when he was a little drooling, babbling baby, he grinned like mad when they called him. He looked like a chipmunk, bearing his first two teeth in the front. He also had giant chubby cheeks to compliment the teeth. That's what Dette remembered most about him.

Her father was a united States Senator, while she didn't know what that meant, but she knew he was 'mportant and he worked for the gov'-ment. She didn't care much for her father. His words were harsh and abrasive and his breath reeked of alcohol. They had a small dog that Dette had no interest in named Buddy. Wallie was fascinated by the creature. His favorite way to spend time with the pungent beast was to feed him carrots and let him lick the pudding off his face. Dette wanted nothing to do with that mutt. She was happy when she lived on the outside, truly genuinely happy. She remembered the tender moments her family shared at the park, kids on the swings parents on the bench cuddling in the fall breeze. In the bed all snuggling under a blanket with popcorn while they watched a clichéd family film about morals and shit.

She also remembers vividly when these happy memories abruptly ended. It was 2077, she had just turned seven and just entered the second grade. Even though her father was a crucial part of the United States government, she paid no attention to politics and had no idea about the trouble brewing on the horizon. She knew but only two things. One, at school they began to play new games involving the contemptuous mocking of the Chinese children. They would pull their eyelids sideways so they pulled across their eyes tightly with a slant, and then they would spit gibberish in what they assumed was what Chinese sounded like. It was really a mash of Chings sprinkled with a few flavorful chongs. Any Chinese children were brutally teased, sometimes even physically hurt. Dette took part in this, not knowing why really, everyone else was doing it. She remembered tackling a small Chinese boy, whom she had been chasing through the overgrown forests. Her young lungs heaving with the effort of the chase. She heard the crashing sounds of her accomplices catching up to her, it was time to perform.

She smiled down at the younger girl, her eyes mischievous. She held the girl tightly, spread eagle by her wrists. The girl tried to writhe away from Dette's laborious breaths, but didn't even manage to budge. Dette looked back at her friends two friends. They looked at her expectantly, leaning over with their hands on their knees. They shared her eager grin. Dette turned back to the girl, winked, then made a familiar hacking sound, clearing her sinuses of mucus. She dangled the mucus from her mouth, letting it drip precariously above the young girl. The girl grimaced and squealed, before Dette sucked up the mucus with a satisfying slurp. After a few moments of torment, Dette released the girl, and chased her off into the forest. Her pigtails bounced as she sprinted, nearly tripping on a moss covered branch. Dette and her friends laughed as they watched the girl disappear into the forest, satisfied with their work.

Another thing was her father had stopped coming home after a long workday. One time when Dette snuck into her mother's room to poke around with her makeup again, one of her new means of entertainment, she stumbled upon her mother crying. Scooter floated dutifully at her side , nodding his overblown head and giving any comfort he was programmed to. Her mother spilled out details about the bitch her husband was sleeping with, and how he and her had tucked themselves away to some covert location. Dette didn't know this at the time, but her father had left their family for the daughter of a Congressman from Idaho, her name was Ruby. She was only nineteen and Dette's father was near ancient, so she thought, but they stole away to a secret cabin with no electricity or running water. He meant to come back, but the sex, booze, and pot were so good that he just sat in bed, stoned with his young prize for a week. Until the little cabin was blown away by the force of a large mushroom cloud that is. Sadly he never got the memo about the incoming nuclear attack, and Janette never bothered to tell him. Oops.

She remembered when they moved. They left Buddy at home, which she knew must be odd, don't people normally take pets when they move? Well, Scooter could take care of him. Scooter was the best robot in the whole universe, She knew that in her heart, the same heart that ached so bad when they got into that car and sped away from that sleepy town in Kansas. She saw Scooter wave as he stood by the mailbox, and the bright sunrise behind him. Little did she know that that was the last sunrise she'd see in many, many years. Dette remembered the line, barely. They stood in the line for hours. The people in the line were very nervous, shifting their weight from foot to foot, and glancing past to the end of the line.

The adults sweat heavily, even though it was a cool October morning. Children cried, including little Wallie, who was usually a complacent child. He cried because he wanted Buddy, but Buddy would be dead soon, nothing but a charred piece of flesh under the rubble of a white picket fence American dream home. He would die, along with any remnants of the American dream, a long with any remnants of society, along with any remnants of hope. Dette remembered when it was her families turn. Many burly men in some sort of blue jumpsuit uniform stood in front of a large door that was shaped like a cog the read "VAULT 48".

Inside there was metal stairs and harsh false light and more lines of weary people. She frowned and watched as her mother handed the men papers to look over. She had Wallie on her hip and bounced him steadily. He babbled endlessly, wanting to ask the men or his mother where they were and where buddy was. But all the adults heard was his meaningless baby babble. He was a vocal child, too bad his vocal chords weren't used to adult talk yet.

The man with the paper handed it back to Jan, smiling at Wallie. They said that they were glad to save the young ones especially, and gestured to Dette holding tightly onto her mothers white knuckled hand. They moved into the cave with the giant cog door and stood in the other line. At the end of the lines were giant boxes and women in jumpsuits stood behind the boxes. The jumpsuits had the same number as the cog door, and they passed out folded blue jumpsuits to each person. They changed into these jumpsuits in an area with portable curtains, and dropped their clothes along with every single other item they brought. Dette was reluctant to put in the family picture, but her mommy told her with no certainty that they would get it back soon.

As Dette was about to drop the framed family photo that included everyone even the dog and robot, when a blinding white light flashed through the room, followed by a low rumble. Next thing Dette knew was she was flat on her back and feet were trampling her body. There was some screaming, but mostly people just ran, and ran. Dette heard Wallie's wails from a few feet away and his mother cry out, but she couldn't see anything. She heard a loud scrape and the ground shook, Dette guessed that it was from the cog door being closed. The Orienting room was filled to capacity (about 120 people) and now they were siphoning slowly through the small double doors at the end. People outside the vault door began to push and scream.

They were beginning to feel the heat from the nuclear bomb that went off some twenty miles away. People in the orienting room were pushed against the wall, they began and scream and grunt, bones broke, more screams. The cog spun as it closed, one man pushed furiously at the crowd, but to no avail. The last thing he saw was one of the prongs on the cog inches from his face. The cog door acted as if there were no human body blocking the way, as blood spurted on both sides. It closed Tightly and firmly, leaving about one hundred would be vault dwellers. Sixty of them women and children. They pounded on the door furiously. Each pound let out a muted metallic clang. Another rumble in the distance, this time closer much closer.. Then the pounding stopped.


	3. Chapter 3: Crippled

And that's how Dette became a bona fide Vault dweller in vault 48. In the mad stampede Dette only sustained minor contusions and rib fractures. Her mother wasn't so lucky. She suffered from a broken neck and never walked again. She spent the next ten years wasting away in bed until she finally died of pneumonia. Dette wasn't too sorry. Her mother turned into a bitter woman, turned cold by the loss of a husband and her mobility. Wallie suffered from a crushed leg, thebone pulverized and bent grotesquely. Unfortunately, the orthopedic surgeon was running late the day the bombs dropped. Oh well. Walter suffered from a noticeable limp the rest of his life. But we were alive, which is more than we could say for about one hundred people whose corpses now decorated the outside of the vault and fed the surviving life in the area.

Dette was assimilated into the vault life quickly. She was fitted into a Vault 48 jumpsuit and received four more pairs. Her old clothes were taken and she was too numb to care about her vain things anymore. She was quickly placed into a makeshift foster home, that was really nothing more than just an elderly woman taking in orphans of the bomb. The woman's name was Claire and apparently caring for seven grief stricken children was too much for the old ticker. She was dead within a week. After that Dette and Wallie were tossed from family to family until a legitimate orphanage was founded in the vault. They visited their mother in the hospital, which was where she spent the rest of her life, but their childhood was uneventful and left much to be desired.

Naturally in the Orphanage, Dette grew up with the rift raft of the vault. They made it habit to harass women and steal from unlocked rooms. As naturally as those boys became the trouble makers in the vault, she grew up to be the ones who fight the trouble, a Security guard. Many of her orphaned brethren looked upon her which disdain as she enrolled for training when she was Thirteen. None of them truly liked her in the first place, but since they lived together it would make it easier for her to snitch. Thus, Dette became more reclusive by force of the other children.

Wallie was a bit stunted in his motor skills due to his massive of his injury, so early childhood he could not keep up with many other spastic children. He did form a close bond with a young boy named Julius, Who also could not keep up with the others because of his cleft foot. Their joint disability formed a bond that was never broken until one of them wasn't alive.


	4. Chapter 4: Corpses

Dette froze with her hand gripping her 10mm pistol at her side. Her mind raced as she tried to put a face to that scream. After a bit of straining, she put a face to the voice. The scream belonged to Annie Kinsley, a young woman of about twenty with three children all around ankle biting age. She once remembered playing chess with the woman in one of the many recreational rooms until the fidgety baby in her arms knocked the board on the floor. It's a shame, Dette was winning. The scream went on for a few seconds until it sounded like it was literally cut off. Dette regained her senses and looked back into the hallway where people a few minutes ago had been calmy and steadily evacuating. Now they were in a full out stampede. People pushed and pounded on the backs of ones in front of them, even attempting to vault over. Children were dropped and trampled, their frantic parents trampled as well. Just as Dette was about to attempt to calm the masses, she saw the cause of their hysteria.

A large, horned humanoid figure lumbered into the hallway steadily, taking his time on such easy prey. They were like panicked fish in a giant, metallic, underground barrel. He stood at least eight feet tall, each step he took was easily ten feet. He had disproportionately long arms with nails the size of daggers, and on his feet a matching pair. His muscles moved smoothly and almost elegantly under his dark grey flesh. But the most terrifying feature of this mysterious creature was that his whole body was bathed in blood. He swung left and right, senselessly killing the Vault dwellers not swift enough to escape him. His dark eyes darted around wildly as he seized his next prey with pleasure and crushed the screaming teenager with a closed fist. Dette knew it was her duty to protect these people, but she also knew that this abomination, with it's long claws already glistening with blood and gore, would probably only get mad if she shot at it.

She hunkered down and watched with pallid horror as it tore apart her friends and neighbors who were trying helplessly to flee the narrow vault corridors. Two more followed the first, taking time to nibble at corpses and suck the gore from their jagged claws. The beasts rounded a corner after passing her small cabin. She waited until the grunts of the creature and his comrades had faded and the screams of her people into a small whisper to creep out of her cabin. Her automatic door opened upwards and she pushed herself out of cabin, gun pointed at any potential attackers. There were none, and an eerie quiet had settled over the vault. Doors wide open, expecting the residents to return, babies crying in confusion and fear, some of the cries turning to that of terror before becoming a wet gurgle, then silence.

She set out in the opposite way the monster and his victims had gone, towards the main entrance of the vault. Out here, the stench of the beast was stronger. She eyed the corpses on the ground. The smell of death and emptied bowels paralyzing her for a few seconds. The bright overhead lights had dimmed considerably, and a few began to flicker precariously as the power in the vault began to fail. Dette nearly jumped out of her skin as a roach the size of a cat crawled towards her abruptly. She stifled a scream and clung to the far corner as it scurried on past with no interest in her, it's prints leaving a dotted path of blood. _What is happening to my home?_ She cried in her head. She carried on unsteadily, the only main thought in her head survival.

She walked on, keeping her pistol at low ready with her finger on the trigger and trying not to look too closely at the corpses that decorated the hallway, or step in the large pools of their blood. The lights above her head flickered, causing her to freeze and listen for the sounds of more monstrous intruders. When she heard another monster lumbering towards her, she dove into the nearest apartment. She was now in the B wing, closer to the main entrance. She dove behind a bed and was greeted by a pair of large brown eyes. They looked her questioningly, but all Dette did was mime the universal "shh" symbol as the deadly demon lumbered by without a care.

The eyes belong to Jonah, rugged middle aged man who was addicted to pain medication that were used to treat him when he injured his back. His vault 48 jumpsuit hung loosely off his emaciated torso precariously slipping down one shoulder. Jonah held a nearly empty bottle of whiskey in one hand and a .32 caliber pistol in the other. He shook so violently Dette was afraid he might shoot himself, or even worse, her. She held his gaze, trying to calm him with her steadiness. The staring only seemed to make him more nervous so she looked to the floor as they waited. When the monster had passed (after stopping to snack on a dead old man of course) she motioned for him to follow her. He hesitated, looking around his small space frantically. But he concluded he had nothing else to lose, being a sterile widower, he took the last swig of his whiskey and followed her.

They trudged through the dimmed hallways of their former homes. The stench of the monsters made them woozy. The putrid reek did not resemble anything they had smelled in years. In the vault everything smelled clean and fresh. The behemoths smelled like must and body odor, which mingled with the smells of vomit, blood, and all the other wonderful smells associated with death. She lead Jonah to some of the recreational rooms that were only a few hundred yards from the cog vault entrance. As they trudged through the large room littered with trash, the stench became overwhelming and the sound of loud, fleshy footsteps could be heard from the other room. They dove awkwardly behind a vending machine. Dette landed clumsily on her shoulder and as the pain shot down her back and arm. She barely registered the shooting pain, as her eyes followed the beast who had just entered the room. From the shadows behind the vending machine they watched the deadly clawed animal, smaller than the rest, lumber around the room sniffing corpses and grunting senselessly. It would often raise it's elongated nostrils and sniff, but maybe all the gore in the room masked their smell.

Dette got on all fours and shuffled into the deeper shadows of the corner. For almost an hour they sat huddled in the dark corner, until Dette realized this creature's intentions. He was there to make sure no tasty vault dwellers escaped. This realization, while shocking, awed her. These odd being's had communicated to each other their plan down to the finest point. That's when she was sure they were descendants of humans. The thought made her sick to her stomach, coupled with exhaustion, the feeling of near vomit brought her face down to the ground, her shaky arms unable to hold her upright. A lukewarm, thick liquid coated the left side of her face. Every inch of her body froze, and she turned slowly towards the source.

First, she saw slashed innards that were strewn across the floor, then her eyes met the eyes of a dead young man, hidden by the darkness in the corner. Blood pooled around a large gash on his head and through his open mouth. Dette could not suppress her tormented screams anymore. She wailed at the top of her lungs for her mother. She only stopped screaming as sour liquid spewed out of her mouth. The juvenile beast turned around , a puzzled look on it's strangely human face. It walked closer, timidly. It lacked the bloodlust of it's elder counterparts, but tried to imitate it fruitlessly.

Jonah had tried to calm her at the beginning of her hysteria, but it was useless. Now, as the beast cautiously approached and the bellows of others were audible as they hurried to their new prey. Dette met Jonah's eyes, he sighed, half smiled, then sprinted from out of their hiding place. He waved his hands, screamed, and even shot a few times at the stunned creature. The creature looked at him, dumbfounded by this extreme show. Even Dette was stunned, until she realized what on earth he was doing. He was sacrificing himself so she could escape, so she could live. She didn't wait any longer, she knew she had no time. She stood on her wobbly legs, swayed, and sprinted for the entrance. Jonah's agonized screams followed her the whole way there.


	5. Chapter 5: Wasteland

The muggy, dense, air of the outside world hit her like a current of fast rushing water, and the blinding sunlight hit her like a boulder. She stumbled and fell on the stony ground. She laid shell shocked for some time until she adjusted to her new surroundings. She panted heavily, her eyes rolling around senselessly until her eyes laid upon something that was recognizable. Something that grinned at her, oblivious to the suffering going around it. She squinted to focus on this object only a few feet in front of her. Horror shook through her body as the object came into focus. This was the skull of a would be vault dweller, it's hallow gaze held hers as it grinned at her senselessly, it's last red patches flaking off. She retched, but there was nothing more left in her. She lingered in and out of consciousness until a guttural screech reminded her of where she was. Using a nearby boulder as support, she stood and examined her surroundings. The vault was located in the edge of a valley, surrounded by high mountains, the vault going into the base of one of the mountains bases. All foliage was dead, causing dust to fly through the air at the slightest nudge. Early morning mist hung heavily in the air, it was laden with green from what Dette could only guess was radiation. She had left the Geiger counter in her quarters, but she guessed that the radiation was high enough to account for some of her dizziness.

She gritted her teeth and hobbled across the mass graveyard, bones scattered randomly by scavengers. She remembered where she was vaguely. She knew that this area was near some sort of wildlife park that she visited with her family before Walter was born. The thought of Walter sent a jolt of emotional pain down her spine. Her poor crippled brother. He was probably dead. What was a cripple against dozens of those monsters? She couldn't hold back the sob that shook her as she thought of his cowlick, the discolored specks in his eyes, and his crooked smile, which wavered slightly as he limped towards her, hiding the pain. He worked in the power room during the nights with Julius. Judging by the power failure early on in the invasion, she assumed the worst. But, she had to survive, for him. As she walked or limped rather, the sun rose steadily in the sky.

She walked along a dirt road with a steady incline. Dead trees littered either side of the path, either blown away by the severe dust storms with area now faced, or maybe knocked down by impact of the bombs. She didn't know where she would go, in every direction all she saw was quiet desolate mountains. In the vault, they taught children that the vaults were the only place people could possibly survive after a nuclear war, to dissuade any attempted escapes. She had no idea if this was the truth, but she didn't want to turn around and go back to the vault. So much death.. She shook the thought out of her head and trudged on. The wind would pick up in spurts, flattening her short hair back and filling her dry mouth with dirt. For hours she trudged on, passing debris of houses and makeshift shelters.

The land was bleak and bare, with almost nothing but death and destruction. She began to succumb to dizziness and walked off the path. Dehydration was setting in quickly. They did not have seasons in the vault, but Dette knew seasons from before the dark vault days. She guessed it wasn't winter, there was no snow, but there was also no foliage to tell her any more. Fatigue set into her aching body as the sun floated lower in the sky. She had had no food or water since the dinner she rolled around idly on her plate. She spent most of her time alone in the vault, and usually took her food back to her room when she got it from the cafeteria. She always felt too morose for the festivities and games that commenced every night during dinner. Sometimes Wallie would join her, they would sit in silence and listen to the soft jazz that played through their pip boys. Sudden, her eyes widen and she mentally slapped herself in the forehead. Her Pip boy! She might be able to use it to listen for a radio station nearby! If any civilization was alive out there she doubted they had radio technology, in school they taught her what the bombs could do.. But she had to try, there was no going back now. She fiddled with the pip boy, but all she heard was static in every station. She left it on though, it was the anthem for her dreary journey.

With every step her spirits drooped until in the distance she spotted a shack like house. She heart jumped up in her throat and she felt the immense fatigue and dehydration weigh her down. She trudged on, and when she reached the tattered house the door was already open, well the door was actually gone. She examined the house cautiously. All the paint had rotted away along with a good amount of it's foundation. Roof shingles were scattered in the yard and she heard an eerie scuttling sound from inside. All the windows were blown out and glass joined the shingles in the yard. She did a complete three sixty of the surrounding area. Nothing around, this was her only choice. She set one foot inside the house warily. It was greeted by the protesting creak of the wood, but it didn't give. She stepped inside the house that was dimly lit by the failing light of the outside word. Clothes and food containers were scattered throughout the floor. She stepped gingerly over the scattered mess deeper into the house.

The house split into two directions, she went the direction where the most clutter was and found herself in a living room. The tv was knocked over, the couch rotted, and the rug on the floor donned patchy holes. She wrinkled her nose in disgust and walked towards the gaping door of a bathroom. She walked on the cracked tiles and stared at herself in the mirror. Large bags hung under her haggard, hollow eyes. Half of her face and torso were caked with dried blood, the rest of her jumpsuit made grimy with dirt and sweat. Her blonde hair a tangled mess that reached her shoulder. She rubbed the ripped sleeve of her jumpsuit on her eyes, trying to rub out the exhaustion her entire body felt. The light from her pip boy shone dimly, making the shadows and dark spots on her face look even more haunting. She took a few hallow, shaky breaths, Trying to ignore that almost everyone she knew was dead. Her knees buckled and she grabbed the sink for support. Another wave of nausea racked her body as she retched fiercely. She lost her grip on the sink and fell painfully to her side on the cracked tile. Sobs racked her weary body, but she did not have the necessary moisture to cry. She laid on the ground for a few moments, listening to the soft hum of her pip boy.

Dette has no idea how long she laid on the floor, long enough for the sun to go down completely only leaving a thin, pale line of orange across the equator. An over encumbering heaviness settled on her body and she felt herself drifting off into Oblivion. She welcomed the feeling, needing the rest desperately. Her stomach growled numbly, her head pounded and her throat burned, but she ignored all this. She noticed another noise other than the soft soothing hum of her pip boy and the fuzz coming through the radio. Her senses dulled by the overwhelming urge to sleep she dismissed these sounds as unimportant. She returned drowsily to her stupor until the scuttling noise had magnified tenfold. Groggily, she turned her head towards the doorway of the bathroom and let out a husky scream.

Two roaches, the size of housecats, scampered towards her their antennas probing at the air. Dette sprang to her feet and back pedaled to the wall, tripping into the rusty bathtub. She felt a sharp pain on her shoulder and her head snapped to her assailant. A smaller roach that was on the wall nestled himself on her shoulder and sunk his "teeth" into her flesh. She screamed again, this time more huskily, and ripped the creature off her shoulder. She shone her pipboy light on the walls and saw over thirty giant roaches scuttling down the walls, closing in on their defenseless target. She reached for her gun, but she only had a one mag, in the vault they normally only had one in the chamber. Dette thought that was a ridiculous rule so she usually had a full clip, but even that only equaled twelve rounds.

Instead she stood up and stomped heavily on the roaches. They made a sickening crunch sound as their innards burst from their protective shells. She used both feet to do this in an odd dance, moaning and crying the whole time. She continued this for a few moments, and when she noticed that the supply of roaches was nearly endless, she sprinted for the door to the shambled house. The stepped on a few roaches, but leaped and bounded over most, avoiding the sickening crunch and squish. She crashed through the gaping opening of the house, leaving her booted footprints with the fluid still stuck to the bottom of her feet. She turned around, gasping, to see if any of those little bastards followed her. They stayed at bay, purely territorial of their home. She sighed in relief and turned around and saw a curious sight.

A boy stood in front of her, no older than fifteen, his first pimples shone brightly through the dirt on his face. He wore nothing but a torn pair of khaki shorts, obviously too large for his bony frame. Their eyes met, his a cool blue, hers a dark green. She felt like they stared for hours, but it was less than a second. Dette's eyes traveled down from his eyes to something in his hands. Just as she registered what the object was and began to take a step back, rose it above his head and hit her on the top of her head. It was an aluminum baseball bat, the shock of this sent her to the ground, dumbfounded. The boy stared at her bleeding body on the ground for a few moments, then began to scream with triumph. He threw his fist in the air, bloody bat and all, and screamed.  
"I found one! I found one! Daddy I found one!"


	6. Chapter 6: Footsteps

**A/N: This chapter contains brief references to rape. You've been warned.**

* * *

**Darkness.**

Dette wasn't sure if her eyes were open of not. She waited patiently for her eyes to adjust to the all encrouching darkness. As she waited, she tried tentatively to move her hand to her throbbing, wet head. She tried to move her right hand and felt her left hand being dragged along. She tried to pull them apart with no avail. They were tied together securely behind her back. Her heartbeat began to increase steadily. She tried to get her bearings. Her stomach and right side of her face were pressed against a hard, damp surface. Okay, she was lying on her stomach. Her hands were tied behind her back tightly by some rough string. It bit into her wrists uncomfortably, but nothing compared to the pain in her head. From the chill she felt on her aching body, she concluded she was naked. The dull trill of panic was rising in her. She probed her mind for some explanation of this. The boy, he had knocked her out. Why? Where did he take her? Who was his father? She asked herself all these questions over and over, letting the trill rise into a loud roar. Was she dead? Would she ever see light again? Woul- wait. Footsteps. She heard steady footsteps

Dette tilted her head to listen to muted footsteps that echoed through what sounded like hallow tunnels. The sound of boots on the rusted metal quickened her heartbeat until it matched the rhythm of the hurried steps. As they drew closer, she spied a dancing light that snuck through the cracks of an old metro utility closet door. She shrank back away from the light, hoping that it's bearer was just making a visit passed her humble closet, but she had no such luck. She heard a scrape and a thud as the inexplicable bearer set down the lamp that was the source of the flickering light. Moments later the metro door screeched in protest as it slid downwards shakily into the compartment below. The light from the lamp flooded in and Dette shielded her eyes from the mini inferno. A dry screech escape her lips and she recoiled away from the blinding bright light. Behind the closed lids that shielded her eyes from the searing pain of the light, she saw the light shift and curiously she cracked one of the lids open.

A hulking silhouette stood with a wide stance in the doorway. Dette's heart stopped as for a moment she relived the horrifying moments within the vault, it did not slow even when she realized this being was human. She felt stunned as the figure kneeled down and his features came into focus. He was a large man, but It was obvious that he did not have enough to eat. His eyes and cheeks were sunken inward, a sharp contrast to his high, sharp cheek bones. He had a long, scraggly beard that was as much hair as it was caked dirt. His head was completely shaved, and many scars decorated the surface of his cranium. His clothes were stained with sweat, dirt, and copious amounts of blood. Probably her blood. Her eyes traveled down to his pants, and the horrible bulge that was slowly growing in his crotch.  
He reached one of his mammoth hands up and lifted her chin so her eyes were forced to meet his.

"You were pretty sneaky, ey girl?' She looked at him in disbelief. His voice was a like a soothing rumble, but with a hint of something sinister that kept her on edge. He leaned forward, his dirty face only a few inches away from her swollen one. So close she could smell his breath. It smelled like a bloody carcass that had been sitting in the sun for days. That was probably what this feral man had feasted on minutes before coming to torment her. Dette had no idea why she thought he had come to torment her, he brought no weapons but the one in his pants, but she had an ominous feeling about this visit. She knew Prisoners of War weren't normally treated with much respect.  
If she was going to die here, she was going to die with some shred of dignity. She was naked, bloody, and broken, but she wouldn't let this man break her anymore. She looked him dead in the eye and squinted hers in silent question. The man chuckled at her pluckiness, and continued.

"You snuck out of the vault like a ghost. We'd been staking the place out waiting for you rats to finally scurry out of your hidey hole. But you sure screamed like a Banshee when we found you in that house." He chuckled to himself, satisfied with the analogy "You were the only one to make it out, at least the only one to make it out who wasn't in the belly of a Deathclaw." At this is began to laugh hoarsely, all the soothing rumble gone in his manic cackle.  
Anger boiled inside of Dette violently. He is getting a kick out of the death of everything she'd ever known. This was a joke to him. She tried to last out at him, but she found that her feet were bound too along with her hands. Void of any other weapons, she tried to bite his hand. He flinched back and seemed to be frightened by this sudden outburst. Dette thrashed around with the ferocity of a crazed animal or a cornered junkie. She used her only remaining weapon, her saliva, and spat at him ferally.

He recoiled, shocked by the sudden outburst, but quickly gained his composure. His wicked smile returned and his eyes gleamed with amusement. "You've got some fight too then? Good, it's always better when they fight." In one swift motion he seized her by the hair and flipped her onto her back. She heard a muted thud as her head hit the wall and a crack as she landed on her partially curled fingers. She cried out, despite the immense shame she felt for doing so. She looked over her bare body and saw her was on his hands and knees crawling towards her.

In a last ditch effort, she thrust her feet at him. But it was in vain. One foot managed to make contact with the man's cheek, but he waved it away and then held down her bare thigh with a knuckled fist. Soon he was ontop of her and his corpse breathe was hot in her face. She gagged at the smell and then gasped as the man entered her. She felt a tearing pain as he forced himself into her and began to scream. The scream was answered by a fist promptly hitting her in the side of the skull. Her head snapped to the side and then she was still. She wasn't sure if she was knocked out by this, but next thing she knew the man was standing up and stuffing his unit back into his pants. She looked up at him as wide eyed as a fawn. He smiled at her and said, "Don't worry dear, I'll be back for more." He winked and turned away from her broken, humiliated body.

Before he could even leave the utility closet, Dette's body was shaken by loud, mournful sobs. Tears flowed down her face and into the many wounds that decorated her face. She also noticed a wetness between her legs. Did I get off on that? The thought passed her mind and she immediately was overtaken by the feeling of disgust and self loathing. She tilted her head up to investigate, the motion made her feel dizzy and her vision blurred. When it came back into focus, she noticed she did not in fact get off on the rape, she was bleeding. She laid her head back and continued to sob. She cried until a sound in the distance muted her. It was the sound of footsteps.


	7. Chapter 7: Numb

Darkness.

This was Dette's world for her weeks of imprisonment. Or what she assumed were weeks. There was no way for her to tell how much time had really passed, this coupled with her disorientation attributed to her warped sense of time. She spent most of her time straining her ears, listening for the distinct clank of boots hitting the metallic floor of the metro station, flinching as she heard the sounds of Rad Roaches skittering curiously around her. She also cried.

She slept shallowly and fitfully. The Dreams of the clawed monsters were unrelenting. They approached her, eyes bright and feral, mouths growling as foam dripped out onto the floor. She was cornered in her claustrophobic room in the vault, trembling uncontrollably with sheer terror. They lumbered towards her slowly, but hungrily. Just before their jaws closed around her slender neck, she started awake. The first sensation she felt was relief, it was just a dream after all. Then despair washed over her. She was alive, but her conditions were unfavorable, in fact they were just downright awful. She curled into a tight ball and cried bitter tears.

Many men visited her, if you could even call them men. They seemed like scared boys when they timidly unbuckled the belts that were the only thing keeping their tattered shorts on their scrawny waists. One was her first abuser, the burly man whose breath smelled of a rotten carcass. Sometimes he caressed her like a lover, other times he spat on her and slapped her as he had his way with her. Another man visited her sometime after. He was in his late teens, though his face looked much older. His eyes sunk in and his face was adorned with an array of scars of varying ages. He walked in, barely glancing at Dette's naked form as he set down his lamp and settled on the ground. He stared blankly at the ceiling and idly wrung his fingers as he spoke about his brother, the bombs, and death, So much death. He talked about his brother, Rat, who was ripped apart by Deathclaws. And the more he talked about his brother, the more strained his voice became and the redder his face until he was on the ground sobbing his late brother's name. Dette began to relax just then, obviously this poor boy wasn't here to hurt her, he was in as much pain as she. But as soon as she relaxed her tense muscles and let out the breath she hadn't even known she'd been holding, his eyes shot up at her. His face was angry and cold, his eyes dark with rage. He mounted her savagely and began to beat her with his bandaged fist.

The abuse went on for many minutes, until he finally receded and strode out of the metro station, his fist clenched tightly. he hung his head down, panting, as sweat dripped down his forehead. Soon after, Dette's eyes swelled shut, and all she could see was the darkness, and all she felt was the darkness.

What Dette assumed as the next day after she was brutally beaten by the boy with the dead brother, She heard footsteps again. The footsteps were softer, and slower. By now Dette was able to tell who was coming to visit her prison by the character of their steps. She was unfamiliar with these, but she had no energy to ponder their origins.

When she heard the familiar screeching of the metro doors, she shrunk back and hid her face in her shoulder. She saw the light shift behind her closed lids as the figure of the stranger walked towards her, blocking the light. They stood over her for quite some time, unsure. Dette attempted to open her less beaten eye. She succeeded in opening her eye to barely more than a slit, and she stared at the figure while her vision tried to focus. She saw the dark figure of a slender woman, but because of the back light she was unable to make out more of her features. She groaned has the light penetrated her mostly closed lid and caused her bruised and bloody head to throb. She shoved her face back into the her shoulder, to hide them from the hurtful light. She wanted the darkness.

She felt the woman's cold hands prodding at her ribs. Dette recoiled at the sudden burst of pain in her torso and whimpered pathetically. "Oh my god." The woman breathed. "What have they done to you? Poor girl." Dette's whimpers turned into pitiful sobs of agony and despair. The woman said nothing more. Dette heard her shifting around and then felt a cold wet hand on her face. She jumped back, her sobs became hysterical. The mystery woman used her knee to brace Dette's shoulder to the ground and her hand for the other. Dette struggled but the woman did not budge, she was strong. Or maybe Dette was just weak. So she stopped struggling, they normally hurt her worse when she struggled. On top of that it amused the men who straddled her violently when she spat and swore. They would smile down at her powerless form as they took her dignity, the victory they felt evident in the sick glow in their eyes. Instead, she found it helped if left her physical form and lost herself in the memories of her bitter sweet childhood, before the bombs decimated any semblance of a future.

She closed her eye, and the pain disappeared. When she attempted to open her eyes, the bright summer light immediately shut them again. She felt a rush of sticky heat and felt the roar of a crowd as much as she heard it. She opened one eye, fluttering still at the sudden and intense brightness and spied a baseball diamond and a large crowd that enclosed the vibrant green grass on all sides. The pitcher was peering into the crowd, triumph written on his face in the way of a smug grin. The batter up was pawing at the ground irritably with his cleats, the wooden bat hanging loosely at his side. Baseball was never Dette's forte, but she recognized the Batter as one of the star players of the year, hitting more homeruns than any player in the last fifty years. She heard a gruff voice next to her swear, and turned curiously towards the semi familiar voice. Her eyes widened, next to her sat her father, leaning forward irritably with a cigar in his mouth. He was unshaven, his haggard face drooping haughtily. He wore a stained and scuffed suit, that looked like it had seem many better days. He was bouncing Little Walter on his knee, a bit too roughly. Walter's head bobbed back and forth. He was barely able to sit up on his own. He wore a girlish looking white sunhat with only a shirt that read "Momma's boy," and a very stylish denim looking diaper. Walter regarded her with a dribbly grin and reached a chubby hand towards her. Dette pushed his hand aware irritably and noticed her hand wasn't much bigger than his. She turned to her other side and looked in the direction of a more familiar voice. This voice was light and angelic; it caressed her earlobe softly and filled her with warmth and comfort. Her mother sat next to her clad in a shining orange sun dress with a matching floppy sunhat. She was conversing lightly with a Mr. Handy, who was dishing out hotdogs, smothered in mustard and relish. Dette felt her mouth water as she stared up longingly at the hotdogs. As her mother disengaged from conversation and was getting ready to distribute the dogs, something caught her attention and her head snapped past Dette to the hulking man holding a small baby roughly in his giant, hairy hands.

"What do you think you're doing, Phillip?" Her words were piercing and cold as ice, accompanied fittingly by the icy glare from her blue eyes, Dette felt a chill in the summer air. Her father turned toward her mother, eyebrows scrunched in confusion and irritation, cigar still hanging loosely to the corner of his mouth. When he spoke, the mixed smell of lingering alcohol and cigar smoke made Dette gag.

"What is it Jan? I'm trying to watch the ballgame!" He spat, furiously. Little Walter looked up at him, his eyes suddenly wide and frightened.

"I told you not to smoke that crap around our baby!" She said, she sounded disgusted. She reached over Dette and snatched her baby from his indifferent father. Walter squealed and began to wail at his mother's rough grasp. Dette sunk into her chair, uncomfortable with the squabble that was going on around her. But it had the air of familiarity around it, this had been happening quite often recently.

"He's fine Jan, just leave it." He said, shouting over the crowd which had suddenly erupted into cheers. His face snapped back to the baseball diamond and focused his attention on what all the other spectators were seeing. The young star was making his way around the diamond, in a slow jog with his fists in the air. Another homerun for the young up and comer, his future looked bright. But maybe that was just the nuclear blasts that destined to end his life in a few short months.

Her father stood up and threw his fedora on the ground and swore. He gave Dette's mother one last disdainful look, and then waded through the crowd towards the exits. Little Walter continued to wail morosely. Janette loosed her grip and put his over her shoulder, rocking him and patting his back, whispering comforting coos. She mainly did this to shield herself from Dette, so she didn't see her tears. But Dette knew, she saw the subtle shakiness as her chest rose and fell and heard her quiet gasps. Dette was going to reach out and comfort her mother, but a sudden and intense pain came over her. She fell back into her wooden stadium chair, groaning. Her head felt like it was on fire. The burning sensation was beginning to spread down her forehead.

Dette opened her swollen eye. She tried to look around, the sudden change of surroundings disorienting. She was back in the metro station. The woman was still over her, pressing some type of cloth with an undisclosed poultice on her forehead.

"I told you this would hurt, please don't fight me, I'm trying to help you." The woman spoke in an earnest voice. Dette relaxed, the burning sensation subsiding. "You're covered in abrasions; in these conditions you could easily get an infection. Please hold still, Girl." Dette had shifted slightly to a more comfortable position. She watched this girl as she worked on her own naked body. Now that she had closed the metro door and the woman's lamp had been placed nearby, Dette could more easily see the details of her caretaker. The girl was probably around her age, early twenties. She had long flowing black hair, and dark eyes to match it. Her skin was deathly pale, most likely from an inconsistent diet that at the moment consisted of cornflakes and a few scattered wild grasses. She wore a tattered leather vest with a dirty white shirt underneath. Around her waist a large belt anchored her flowing leather pants to her skinny waist. On one hip she had a holster in which a pistol was snugly resting.

Dette regarded this, none of her other visitors had brought their weapons in her vicinity, probably because you don't bring weapons around prisoners. If Dette were able to shimmy her way out of the improvised handcuffs, that gun would provide a convenient escape. She looked back at the woman's face. She had stopped working on Dette's broken body and was staring into her eyes. The woman's hand had moved to her pistol and she gripped it with white knuckles.

"Don't get any ideas," She said, her tone suddenly cold. "I'm the only one out in the wastes that gives a shit about if you live or die, and if you turn on me there will be no one." Dette looked up into the woman's eyes, unblinking. The woman's stare was so fierce that Dette felt her gaze dropping to the floor. And it stayed there as the woman continued to work on her wrecked body. The unnamed caretaker cleaned her wounds gently with the closest thing to a clean garment since Dette escaped the vault. Her eyebrows furrowed as she slipped into deep concentration. She injected Dette with a large needle, slowly seeping the liquid into her quadriceps. Dette felt intense relief wash over his as the drug began to take effect, numbing her pain. Lastly, she applied her healing dressings to her wounds, and leaned back, admiring her handiwork. "You'll live." She said. And then she pulled out a bowie knife that had been holstered in a calf strap. Dette gasped and scooted backwards but didn't make much progress, considering her tightly tied feet. The woman approached and sighed, "I'm not going to hurt you just, sit still or something." Dette obeyed but kept her puffy eyes closed tight. Dette felt the woman steady her tied wrist and felt the release of the taught rope on her wrists. Dette rubbed the flaking dried blood on her wrist and looked up at the woman, pondering her next move.

The woman shiethed her blade, and reached into the back pocket of her leather pants and unveiled something that made Dette's eyes widen. She brought out a few biscuits wrapped in a bandanna Dette stared at the biscuits, the first item of food she had laid her eyes on since her imprisonment. "We found a couple mirelurks the other day, already dead. This is the last of the meat we have, in these cakes, they should make you feel better." She put the biscuits on the ground and picked up her oil lamp. As she was leaving, she stopped and turned her had to the side, addressing Dette again. "Make sure when you hear someone coming, wrap the rope around your hands again, loosely of course. You're too weak right now. If you try anything you'll die. Plain and simple." She paused, seemingly pondering something as she stared at the grated floor. "Just rest, eat, and I'll be back for you." The metro door slammed shut.


End file.
